


Apples Are Good For The Soul

by poetfaery



Series: Kiss Of Frost [3]
Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Original Canons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-08
Updated: 2013-04-08
Packaged: 2017-12-07 22:13:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/753670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poetfaery/pseuds/poetfaery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Autumn tries to get Pitch to come apple-picking with her. Pitch is not amused.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Apples Are Good For The Soul

**Author's Note:**

> My friend and I have created a post-movie canon where there are three other seasonal spirits, each created a hundred years after the last, the final one being Autumn.  
> One of her powers is talking to animals and they all basically love her, which shows.  
> Also, the nightmare wolves are from the RotG game; I like them a lot more than the horses. (Really, Pitch? Ponies?)  
> Finally, Autumn's Center is Change!

           Pitch knew it was her when his golden-eyed nightmares started wagging their tails. Seriously, _wagging their tails. Even his horse._ His suspicions were confirmed when wind swept into the glade and circled him in a strong gust. A storm of leaves swept in, coalescing into a petite teenage girl with fiery hair who hugged him fiercely. She gazed up at him with gold-flecked leaf-green eyes.

           “Hiya, Pitch,” she said sweetly, flashing him a smile.

           “Autumn,” he sighed back, extricating himself from her embrace. Much as he detested the Guardians, he was almost becoming fond of this girl. It helped that she wasn’t a Guardian, only a spirit, like him.

           The side of Autumn’s mouth curved up in a grin and her eyes sparkled. She stepped back and scratched the chins and bellies that were being eagerly offered by the nightmare wolves.

           Pitch often felt unsettled by the girl’s energy; most spirits, even after just a few months, became rather despondent- a state Pitch reveled in watching. The spirit of autumn’s smile never seemed to falter, though, although as far as he could tell, she talked only to her animals, once or twice to that insufferable Jack Frost, and for a reason no one could understand, to him.

           “What,” he said coldly, cringing as his nightmares tried to cuddle- _cuddle!_ \- with her, “do you want?”

           She cocked her head to the side for a moment and studied him, dreamy eyes focusing sharply. After a moment, though, the unnervingly calculating gaze faded into a wistful half-smile. Patting the head of her favorite nightmare, the wolf she’d tamed and dubbed “Rory,” she looked up at him shyly. “My apples are blooming.” A note of pride and excitement sparked in her voice.

           Pitch was thoroughly confused. “So?”

           A sweet smile grew on the young woman’s face. Her eyes were hopeful. “I thought you could come apple-picking with me.”

           Pitch scowled reflexively. What an absurd notion. The Boogeyman, father of nightmares and fear, _picking apples_? “Do you think me a child?” His voice dripped disdain.

           The calculating look returned, this time softened by something like pity. Or… understanding. “No,” she said softly, “I think you’re lonely.”

           A thousand dark words crashed against Pitch’s skull, but he could only stand staring at Autumn in shock. After a moment, she reached out to his nightmare horse and smoothed its black-sand forelock gently.

           “Besides,” she said, looking suddenly vulnerable, “apples are good for the soul.” She glanced sideways at him, flame in the midst of shadows. “And I bet Missy here would love a few.”

           The shadows blooming from Pitch’s cloak roiled, and he opened his mouth in anger, only to be struck still again by laughing green eyes.

           Pitch clenched his jaw and regained control of himself. “Why do you insist on turning my nightmares into pets?”

           “Pets?” she repeated in surprise. “Friends.” She stepped carefully through the throng of nightmares and placed her small hand lightly on Pitch’s chest, pale skin contrasted by his dark cloak. A surprising wave of warmth rippled through him at her touch. “Like us,” she said. It was a statement, spoken as a certainty.

           Pitch took a long step back, away from her touch, and melted into the shadows. For a moment, Autumn stood absolutely still, jade eyes wide and questioning. Then her gaze fell, and her outstretched hand curled into a fist, which she hugged protectively to her chest. The tips of her hair had just begun to lift on the wind as leaves when shadows crept into form several yards behind her.

           “Those apples won’t wait forever,” he said, careful to keep his face and voice neutral.

           Autumn’s hair settled and she turned quickly, her face the very picture of joy. Pitch’s cold heart thumped once, settling into an unfamiliar rhythm as the spirit of autumn led him to her orchards, and to the stranger wilds of a friendship beyond.


End file.
